


Summer solstice in Armorica

by bamboobrat



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24162778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamboobrat/pseuds/bamboobrat
Summary: "I think we should invite Gerri to our room tonight," she says, tone almost business-like.This is not the first time she has suggested something like this. Roman isn't sure if she does it because she thinks it will make him interested in having sex, or if she simply needs a third person there to be satisfied. He hopes it is a little bit of both."Okay there, perv, no more drugs for you.""I mean it. I'm not dumb, Roman. I've seen the way you look at her."
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy, Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy/Tabitha
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	Summer solstice in Armorica

**Author's Note:**

> this is very long... i'm sorry about that. it's just that i get really into universe building and then i feel like i owe you the smut you came for as well! 
> 
> anyway, i love tabitha. i love gerri, i love roman. so i guess this is a natural continuation from that. 
> 
> sorry for any typos etc... i wrote this at 3 am instead of going to bed. quarantine is making me especially frustrated these days, so we do what we can to keep afloat.

Roman Roy was never really a threesome kind of guy. He had of course indulged in the odd porno, but when it came down to it, he already struggled staying focused on one person, so adding another to the mix never really seemed like a plausible idea... 

...which was perhaps why he hadn't registered the inevitability of the situation he currently found himself in. 

It all began when his mother, Caroline, invited him and his siblings to her annual summar solstice celebration at her house near Le Havre in northern France. Roman remembers asking his mother - he must have been around twelve at the time - why she hadn't opted for something further south on the continent; somewhere like Italy or Spain where the weather was actually distinguishable from that of good, old England. 

She never really answered the question. Nearly thirty years later, he was only left with a vague memory of Caroline calling him ungrateful and then going on to say something about how the warm weather makes people lazy. 

The Roy kids had not been back to Normandy for a few years. It wasn't a place they particularly enjoyed, which perhaps had more to do with their mother than with France itself. However, as all of her children had missed Christmas with her last year, Caroline had leverage and decided to play her hand. 

At least it wasn't England. At least France had nice food. 

Roman wasn't sure we she even wanted her there. Family gatherings had never been a pleasurable experience for them. Lately, it had mostly just resulted in one of the family members trying to fuck the rest of them over. 

Maybe it had something to do with the rumor that Caroline had found another rich, spray-tanned French guy to show off; one that would inevitably piss Logan Roy off with his Eurocentric snobbery and anti-Americanness. Looking out the window of the private jet, Roman hoped he wouldn't have to sit through another dinner conversation where some asshole with an accent and a bank account in the Caymans explains to him why the new world simply lacked a certain _je ne sais quoi._

***

The architect behind the summer house had opted for a more rustic look, with vines covering the entire west-facing stone wall. It was meant to be a riff on a classic French cottage, even though everyone knew it had been designed in the early 00s and that it was primarily Caroline's pet project for flushing Logan's money down the drain post-divorce. With more than ten ensuite bedrooms, one might wonder if any of the people involved knew the true meaning of rustic. 

Like all of Caroline's properties, it was situated far away from any potential neighbors or nosey Nellies. 

Black SUVs were waiting for them at the Octeville airport, ready to take them down along the Seine to the estate. The weather was gloomy and grey, even in June, mirroring the facial expressions of all the Roy kids as they stepped onto ridiculously small runway. Roman always felt weirdly connected to his siblings whilst visiting their mother. It made him feel like they were a platoon, gorging on whatever food and drink they could get their hands on before entering a home completely devoid of nurturing in all senses of the word. 

They were asked to arrive a few days before the other guests. For "family time," as Caroline had called it. Roman wasn't sure he was meant to read that as ironic or not. 

Kendall was decidedly off the wagon again and came in from one of those Spanish party islands that inevitably makes you want to blow your brains out. He was grinning from ear to ear as he introduced his siblings to the girl he had decided to bring back to his mother's house; a tall and lanky Spanish brunette that looked like she had lived most of her adult life in a bikini. The girl, whose name may or may not be Sarah, could not hold a conversation to save her life, perhaps because her first language was not English, or perhaps because Kendall kept making sure there was a steady flow of coke into this poor girl's bloodstream. 

Roman was looking forward to what Caroline would say once she eventually realized it was a new girl and not in fact Rava sitting across from her at the dinner table. He had a bet going with Shiv on whether or not she would notice at all. 

Shiv had brought Tom. Sweet, stable, midwestern Tom. 

He looked as if he was dreading it.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, Roman began conjuring up potential digs that Caroline would make at Tom now that he had become a fairly prominent figure at ATN. Too much Americanness for his mother to let slide. 

Roman himself was accompanied by Tabitha, who was always up for a trip abroad and a bit of fun. To Roman's surprise, she had quickly become on of the few people in the world that his mother did not recent. Caroline had more than once suggested he should marry her, despite the fact that Tabitha wasn't heir of any significant fortune. 

What Tabitha was, though, was likable. She could hold her liquor and keep up during conversation. More importantly, thought, she seemed completely unfazed by the presence of the Roy family - a quality they all could appreciate. 

***

The days leading up to the festivities turned out to be nothing but an excuse for Caroline to inspect her children before the arrival of any important guests. So much for family time. Roman found it mind-numbingly boring, as per usual, although it was entertaining to watch Tom struggle at dinner. 

He had already asked Caroline to see the guest list, hoping for a more interesting collection of people to keep him entertained. Perhaps a leader of a Eastern European country with anti-semitic tendencies, or a European soccer player whose career mostly centered around their good looks. Being invited to Caroline Collingwood's infamous summer solstice festivities was more or less a stamp of approval from the European, old-money elites. Roman was sure it would entertaining. Enjoyable, however, was another matter completely. 

He probably shouldn't have been as surprised as he was to see Gerri there, stepping out of the black SUV looking nothing like she had just spent a good seven hours on a trans-Atlantic flight. But he was. He had a tendency of forgetting that his mother and Gerri had known each other much longer than he had known any of them. Even though Logan clearly got both Gerri and Baird in the divorce, Caroline was adamant about maintaining a friendship with Gerri. If nothing else, then just for the purpose of spiting her ex-husband. 

As the two women exchange kisses, _faisant la bise_ , Roman wonders how Gerri feels about the fact that she berated Caroline's youngest son into orgasm by calling him a "cum sock with no potential" only a few days earlier. By the looks of it, it didn't seem to bother her much. 

***

The reception is a disaster. Or it's a success, depending on who you ask. To Roman, it's one of the more boring events his mother has hosted. Ah, how he longs back to the days when Caroline and Logan were still together or, better yet, when they were going through a divorce. 

One time he swears he saw his mother throw a vase at his father's head during a drinks reception, although nobody he has talked to since seems to remember it happening. People have a tendency of omitting your worst qualities as long as you are rich enough, Roman thinks to himself as he makes his way over to the bar for another glass of whatever poison they have deemed appropriate for the occasion. 

At the bar, Kendall is hanging out alone. 

"Where's the... um, Ibiza girl?" Roman asks.

Kendall smiles in a way that makes it apparent to Roman that he is, unsurprisingly, high as a kite already.

"Jesus Christ, man, it's like 6 pm. Your pupils are the size of your asshole." 

"Hey, anything that gets you through this party," Ken responds, haphazardly gesturing at the rest of the room where people in overpriced gowns and tuxedos are mingling, trying to look and feel more important than they probably are. 

Roman scoffs and orders a whiskey. 

"What are you on these days, anyway? Coke? Meth? Please don't tell me you're doing ket again. Horse tranquilizer always makes you so annoying and i'm interested in cleaning up vom tonight, okay?" 

"Actually, Sarah suggested we'd do molly tonight. Much smoother comedown." 

Kendall speaks matter-of-factly, as if he's talking about vitamin supplements or his regiment at the gym. Roman wonders if he'll ever love something as much as Ken loves drugs. 

"Ah, yes, listen to Sarah," Roman bites back. "I mean, you've known her for what, a good forty-eight hours now?" 

Before Ken can respond, Tabitha comes up to them at the bar. 

"Wow, this is really a lot more boring than I anticipated," she says, gesturing at the women behind the bar. "How long do these things usually last, anyway?" 

"Just long enough for you to want to blow your brains out," Roman says. "This is one of the few places where all these people can get zonked without fear of photos leaking to the media, so it tends to go pretty late. I usually try to find the most well-adjusted person in the room and see how much damage I can do in one night."

"Lovely," Tabitha responds, as she accepts a flute of champagne from the woman behind the bar. 

"Or, you could follow the example of crackhead over here and do some MDMA, although it does increase your chances of ending up with one of these old geezers in your bed in the morning." 

"Not an entirely unpleasant idea," Tabitha responds, taking a polite sip of champagne and getting Kendall's attention. 

***

So they end up doing molly and even Roman, who never really saw the point in drugs in the first place, has to admit it makes the evening a lot more pleasurable. Kendall seems oddly hyped to be sharing this drug-induced brother, and Roman, well, he always enjoyed having a secret hidden in plain sight. 

He doesn't feel like his personality is dramatically altered by the substance now coursing through his veins, although you can never be too sure about these things. His brain continues to feel just as chaotic and he is certain he would have said just as many outrageous things over dinner, even if he was not, in fact, on drugs. Only in his body does he feel different, his spine transforming into an almost gelatinous matter, with waves of warmth going up and down his spine. 

He also feels perpetually turned on, but that is nothing new. Ever since management training and that first phone call with Gerri, he has felt as though he is one mild breeze away from a hard-on. 

It's only when he catches Tabitha chatting with Gerri after dinner that he starts feeling a bit sick. He is not sure if it's the molly, or if it's some weird reaction to seeing Tabitha lean over, whispering something in Gerri's ear. Whatever it is she is saying, Gerri clearly finds it amusing, tilting her head forward a little in a small chuckle. A lock of blonde hair falls out of her updo and Tabitha, clearly less inhabited when it comes to human touch, reaches out and stokes the lock back behind Gerri's ear, lingering longer than is perhaps necessary. 

Instinctively, Roman jumps to his feet, making his way over to them. 

"There he is!" Tabitha exclaims when she notices him approaches, casually putting her arm around his shoulder and leaning onto him. "We were just talking about you."

Not having told Tabitha about the phone calls or the late night hotel room visits, he tries to keep a neutral face, looking to Gerri for answers. Gerri, as per usual, remains unreadable, casually nursing a martini.

"You see that guy over there?" Tabitha continues, nodding at a tall man in a dark suit across the room.

A handsome man, Roman thinks, if he wasn't such a normo.

"That, my dear friend, is the head of the International Monetary Fund and, more importantly, the man who has been hitting on Gerri nonstop during this seven course dinner." 

Tabitha always has a way of conveying gossip as genuine human interest. 

Roman takes another look at the tall man, examining him closer this time, before shifting his eyes to Gerri, who, although less enthusiastic than Tabitha, does not seem unamused. 

"He was only making conversation," she says, taking a sip of her drink. 

She does look more flustered than normal, Roman thinks; the back of her neck slightly flushed. He wonders if it's the result of the exuberant amount of alcohol served during dinner, or if she's actually enjoying the attention. Regardless, he's enjoying it. 

"He didn't take his eyes off of her for a single second. Didn't you notice?" Tabitha asks Roman. "I am not even sure he ate anything."

"Who can blame him," Roman says, eyes still focused on Gerri, whose gaze gives him nothing. 

When he turns back to Tabitha, he half expected her to be surprised by a comment like that. Instead, she is smiling. 

"Ah, yes, of course, he is only human after all!" 

***

It was Tabitha's idea in the end, which maybe isn't that surprising. As the night continues to get rowdier, Ken is still in a sharing mood and offers them another hit. Roman's head is now buzzing from too much booze and too much stimuli, and he is no position to say no. On their way back from the bathroom Tabitha stops to inspect on of the many landscape paintings in the hallway.

"I think we should invite Gerri to our room tonight," she says, tone almost business-like. 

This is not the first time she has suggested something like this. Roman isn't sure if she does it because she thinks it will make him interested in having sex, or if she simply needs a third person there to be satisfied. He hopes it is a little bit of both.

"Okay there, perv, no more drugs for you." 

"I mean it. I'm not dumb, Roman. I've seen the way you look at her." 

He stops in his tracks and turns to look at her now. Feels that odd sensation of sick in the pit of his stomach again. It doesn't actually feel real.

"I happen to think you'd enjoy it," Tabitha continues. "Didn't you say you wanted something that felt _wrong?_ " 

She cocks her head playfully at him, body still turned towards the painting. 

When he doesn't respond, she takes it as an opportunity to continue her proposition.

"And even if you don't enjoy it, I am fairly certain that I will." 

"Gerri is not going to have a threesome with us, Tabitha."

"But what if she would?"

"She wouldn't."

"But what if she would?"

"What the fuck are we, five?" 

He doesn't mean for it to come across as aggressive. It just blurts out. Maybe it's because if his mind lingers on it for too long, he is scared his brain might explode. Tabitha doesn't seem to have a problem with the tone. 

She shrugs.

"Well, we will see."

She gives him a smile as she turns around and ventures back to the party, spring in her step like a child who is up to no good. 

***

It takes about thirty minutes from when they get back to their room to when there is a knock on the door. In those thirty minutes, Roman has managed to down at least three more glasses of whiskey and paced what must be the equivalent of a half-marathon. 

"Are you nervous, Roman?" Tabitha laughs as she exits the bathroom, having donned a negligé he is fairly certain he has never seen before.

" _No,_ " he says, indignant, but doesn't stop pacing. 

When there's a knock on the door, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He can't quite imagine what Tabitha has proposed, or why Gerri has accepted the offer. As Tabitha goes to open the door, he contemplates climbing out the window and drowning himself in the English channel. Another part of his brain, though, perhaps the one that is high and horny and curious, wants to stay to see exactly what the two women have in mind. 

From the bedroom, he hears the door open. A familiar pop from cork leaving a glass bottle. He forces himself to move to the door of the bedroom, leering more sheepishly in the background that what he would have liked. He seems unable to figure out what exactly he is meant to do with his hands. 

In their lounge, Gerri is sat on the couch while Tabitha is pouring her a drink. She is still wearing her gown from earlier, black, smooth fabric flowing across the pillows. More hair has fallen out of her updo, framing her face and making her look even more beautiful than Roman imagined possible. He feels dizzy from something other than booze for a second, and goes to sit on the ottoman across from Gerri. Thank god Tabitha is an avid talker. His mind is completely void of words. 

"...anyway, we are so happy you could make it!" 

He tries to return to the conversation in front of him. The collective "we" has both Gerri and Tabitha turn towards him and his entire body feels limp. But he is audacious enough to meet Gerri's gaze. Her eyes are kind in a way that makes him feel pathetic and, unsurprisingly, hard. For a second he wonders if he would have liked it to be just the two of them here, but he quickly tosses that idea aside. He needs Tabitha here. Without her, it would surely be the end of him. 

As if reading his mind, Gerri stands up and walks over to Tabitha.

"I don't expect this one will be taking much initiative," she says, nodding in his direction and placing her drink on the coffee table. 

"Oh, don't mind him. This was mostly my idea," Tabitha responds, putting her drink down as well. 

Roman doesn't miss the slight tilt in Gerri's eyebrow, clearly skeptical at the truth of that statement. 

"Right. Might as well begin, then."

Gerri reaches up and trails one finger across Tabitha's jawline. Tilting forward, Tabitha's mouth meets Gerri's hungrily, placing her palm on the back of the other woman's neck and pulling her closer. Determined, Tabitha guides them both to the couch opposite to where Roman is standing, until the calves meet the soft fabric. Without breaking apart their kiss, she slowly places herself on the couch. 

Six feet way, Roman can still see Gerri's tongue making its way into Tabitha's mouth. The wetness of their mouths is enough to feel himself strain on the fabric of his pants and he reaches down to cup himself. 

Gerri, still standing, is pulling slightly at Tabitha's hair now, tilting her head back and exposing her neck. As she starts kissing and biting and licking the thin skin, making her way down to Tabitha's collarbone, Roman can hear a slight hum coming from the back of his girlfriends throat. He wants to unbuckle his belt, needs to, but doesn't want to take his eyes off of the women in front of him. with a light finger, Gerri moves the straps of Tabitha's negligé. It falls effortlessly, exposing erect, pink nipples. Moving down, Gerri takes one of them in her mouth and starts sucking, Tabitha's hum becoming more pronounced now. 

He can't stop himself anymore. He looks down and unbuckles his belt, shoving his hand down his pants and finally getting a firm hold of himself. He can tell he is already too hard for this to last very long, at least on his end. As he looks up, he sees Gerri is now on her knees in front of the couch, one hand still drawing circles around Tabitha's nipple, the other firmly placed on the inside of her thigh. 

A whine escapes Tabitha's lips as she presses herself further towards the edge of the couch, closer to Gerri. Pulling up the silk garment of the negligé, it becomes apparent to Roman that Tabitha is not wearing any underwear. He is rubbing himself frantically now, as Gerri's mouth makes its way from the inside of Tabitha's tight and to her folds. As if from a spasm, her leg moves to Gerri's shoulder, drawing her closer, while her hands are gripping the fabric of the couch, knuckles whitening just a tinge. 

Tabitha's pelvis is bucking up now, greedy for more, as Gerri's fingers finally push into her, mouth never leaving her clit. As she does, Tabitha's head flings back onto the cushions, a small cry leaving her lips. 

Even from afar, Roman can hear how wet she is, clinging onto the couch for dear life. He knows he will probably not last much longer and tries to squeeze down hard near the bottom of his shaft, but to no prevail. Tabitha's breathing grows heavier as Gerri adds another finger with one hand, pinching her nipple with the other.

When Tabitha finally comes, her other leg has also made its way up onto Gerri's shoulders, tights squeezing desperately around her head. Only as Gerri tilts her head up to look at Tabitha, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, does Roman finally come as well, bucking forwards onto the floor. 

Gerri turns to look at him then, hair disheveled and a slight blush across her cheeks. She gives him a small smile before pulling herself up from the floor, straightening her dress. At this movement, Tabitha is awoken from her bliss, reaching out for her hand and pulling Gerri towards her.

With intent, she reaches her hands up Gerri's dress, hooking her thumbs to the seam of her underwear and pulling them down. As Gerri bends down to kiss Tabitha, she is pulled onto her lap, straddling her. Gently, she lowers herself onto Tabitha's hand which is waiting and begins to ride her fingers, slowly at first, but picking up pace in no time at all. 

To his surprise, Roman is hard again. With her dress pulled all the way above her hips, Roman can see Tabitha's other hand squeezing Gerri's ass, guiding her up and down the length of her fingers. One of Gerri's hands are curled in Tabitha's hair, the other still firmly rubbing her breast. A few drops of sweat have begun forming on her forehead now, and her eyes are closed. She's breathing heavily, mouth falling open into a soft moan. It feels like fireworks are going off in Roman's crotch. 

Without thinking, he begins crawling towards the couch, kicking his pants and underwear off, leaving them in a puddle on the floor. Bare-assed, he places himself on his knees on the couch next to Tabitha, wanting to be as close as possible to the action without actually being a part of it. Tabitha gives him a quick smile before turning her attention back to Gerri, whose eyes are still shut. As Gerri's thrusts become more desperate, Tabitha bites down onto her shoulder, the two clinging on to each other now as if it was a matter of life and death.

The sting causes Gerri to finally open her eyes, quickly finding Roman. She doesn't seem surprised that he is there, doesn't miss a beat, but holds his gaze through soft eyes. 

He can see the pleasure flash across her face now, and one neat pearl of sweat forming on her top lip. He wants more than anything to lick it off, feel what she tastes like while she is still in this state of euphoria. Without thinking, he leans forward and their mouths meet. Her breath is heavy as she breathes into him, communicating her arousal to him in a way that words never could, before he feels her warm, wet tongue. He greedily presses himself closer into her and then, without warning, she bites down hard on his bottom lip as a shudder goes through her and her entire body tightens around Tabitha's. Her movements stop, letting the waves ride through her like a tremble, an earthquake. 

Her mouth falls open again, letting go of his lip, and he moved back to have one final look, tasting metal in his mouth, as Gerri falls forward onto Tabitha's shoulder, warm, wet and spent. 

***

He almost expects her to still be there in the morning; doesn't have any recollection of her getting dressed and leaving. For a brief second, he convinces himself that it was all just a dream, but, seeing the dried up blood stains on his pillow, it all comes back to him. 

Tabitha is in a splendid mood, lounging around in an oversized, fluffy bathrobe and white slippers, making coffee to nurse her hangover. 

"Should we, you know, talk?" He mutters unenthusiastically, lying face down on his bed because his head doesn't allow him to do much else just yet. 

"Sure we can talk! I had fun!" 

"Yeah, me too," he responds, smiling ever so slightly into his pillow. 


End file.
